Paid in Full
by Uncle Charlie
Summary: It often pays to update your wall art, especially in UNCLE HQ. Part of the One from Column A and Working Stiffs


Meneleth - Napoleon, Oc of your choice Pay Up - Miss Summers, a fallen picture frame

My mamma always taught me that you took measure of a person not by what they say, but how they act. I took that to heart as both a child and as an adult. While it was true that I wasn't the smartest, the prettiest, or the funniest, I tried to act from the heart and mean what I said and did. I did my job, I didn't tell tales out of school and I was the best person I could be.

And it drew people to me like moths to a flame. When they learned I knew how to keep my mouth shut, everyone seemed to want to share their secrets with me whether or not I wanted them to. Mostly in school, I just wanted to study and get good grades, but you wouldn't know it the way people flocked to me.

Same thing ended up being true at work. I went to work for a good company that pays me a decent wage. And because I was good with numbers, I went into accounting and ended up working in payroll. I became one of the few folks who knew how much people made and thank to Mamma, I kept my mouth shut about it. My bosses appreciated that, but again, it was like I was coated with honey and surrounded by hungry bears.

That's why I usually sat by myself at lunch at a small table that didn't invite company. I was so engrossed in the book I was reading that when someone sat down, I wasn't even aware of his presence until he spoke.

"Hi!"

I jumped a mile, leaping back from my chair and knocking a picture from the wall. Everyone turned and looked at me and I plopped back in my chair, blushing furiously. The last thing I wanted at lunch was attention.

The speaker was none other than Mr. Napoleon Solo. I like Mr. Solo and he'd given me a better perspective of Section Two agents. He's kind, patient, and he never asks me questions I can't or won't answer.

"I'm sorry, I startled you." His smile was genuine. "That must be a good book."

"Not really. I mean, it is, but only if you are white." I turned it over for him to read the title, _To Kill a Mockingbird_. He made a sympathetic face as I scrambled to check the picture."

"Atticus had it right, though.

"Oh, no." I looked at the thin crack running the length of the glass. "I'm going to need to get this fixed."

"What? You could probably just hang it back up and no one would be the wiser."

"Mr. Solo, I am surprised at you." Although I really wasn't. He was Section Two, after all. Subterfuge was practically his middle name. "I couldn't do that."

"No one will care or notice."

"I will. I'll pick up a piece of replacement glass after work."

"At least let me buy you a piece of pie to cheer you up."

I hadn't realized I looked so glum, so I made an effort to smile. "Thank you, I would like that."

The rest of the afternoon sort of tumbled by. I have my own office, so no one had to see the picture, my badge of klutziness. It was getting close to quitting time and I was sort of dragging my feet, wondering how I was going to get the picture out of HQ without anyone questioning me. Then I got it. I had a ruler in my desk, so it would be easier to measure the inside of the frame and get a piece of glass without having to lug the picture to the bus stop and through a long bus ride.

After locking the door, I lifted the picture and placed it on my desk. The image was faded, but it looked like what I imagined the rolling hills of Italy resembled. Carefully, I removed the staples from the frame and slipped out the cardboard backing.

That's when I gasped and reached for the phone. Glancing at the directory, I dialed and waited anxiously for an answer. The voice that did wasn't Napoleon's and I looked to make sure I didn't have the wrong number. It was a little breathless, but I recognized it immediately. "Mr. Kuryakin, is Mr. Solo there? This is Miss Summers from Payroll."

"Just a moment." I heard muffled conversation and a moment later, Napoleon was on the phone. He also sounded like he'd been running a race.

"Solo here."

"Mr. Solo, this is Miss Summers from Payroll. There seems to be a discrepancy with your last time card."

Now, I knew as well as the next person that Section Two didn't punch a time clock. They couldn't. And Napoleon knew that, too."

"Why, what's wrong?"

"It's a matter of some hours worked on the 24th. I need to see you in person to clear this up."

"Now?"

"Yes, please." And I hung up. Hopefully, that would be enough to pique his interest and it was. Within ten minutes, both he and his partner were outside my door.

I answered and brought a finger to my lips and gestured. They followed me over to my desk and the dissembled frame.

Napoleon's eyes grew wide when he saw the microphone and he nodded gravely and held up a hand.

"Miss Summers, what questions did you have about the 24th?"

For a moment, I was dumbfounded and then Mr. Kuryakin held up a note he'd been writing. _Ask him where he was._

"Where were you?"

"I'm afraid that's classified."

_Not to me._

"Not to me," I repeated.

"All right, because I know you can keep a secret. We are holding a top-level scientist at our safe house on 43rd. Thank the stars we got him before THRUSH did."

"Well, why didn't you just use…" I looked at Mr., Kuryakin who was holding up another note.

_The Plan Nine code. _"The Plan Nine code. It covers situations like this and I wouldn't have had to call you."

"That's all right," Napoleon purred. "I never mind seeing you. Do you have plans for tonight?"

Mr. Kuryakin rolled his eyes and shook his head. He made a walking gesture with two fingers and I nodded. I realized this was a game they were playing. "I'm sorry, I do and, now that we have that cleared up, I can get on with them."

They gestured me towards the door and I grabbed my coat and purse and walked out. The moment the door shut, Napoleon was on his communicator.

"You did very well, Miss Summers." Mr. Kuryakin watched his partner. "We have been having a problem with secrets leaving the building and we couldn't find. You are a genius."

"No, just clumsy." I giggled. Napoleon joined us with a huge smile. "And now, I think it's only fair that you come along and see what the fruits of your labors have borne."

I wanted to back out, but in the end I agreed, not that I had the chance. I was whisked away through the agent's exit and quite literally down a rabbit's warren of spy games.

"After we finish here, I thought we might check out what Delmonico's has as a special tonight."

"You just want to flirt with the hat check girl." Illya, as I was calling him now, had a set of binoculars trained on a door. "And what to my wondering eye should appear?" He passed the binoculars over. "Mr. Hayes from Section Seven."

Napoleon shook his head and watched as the man knocked on the door and slipped into their trap. "THRUSHes are so stupid."

"The pictures were ingenious, though. The Canteen is a great place to talk and where better to listen to idle conversation?"

"I wonder how many others there are in the building," I wondered out loud.

"They are all being gathered up and removed as I speak. If nothing else, at least we'll get some fresh art up. And to think we owe it all to you, Miss Summers. This is the second time you've gone to the mat for me. Are you sure you don't want a job in Section Two?"

"Yeah," Illya muttered, watching a struggling Hayes being led away. "You can get her to help you move that stupid sofa of yours. That's what he had me doing when you called. I've never seen a man rearrange an office as much as you do."

"I like things just so." Napoleon answered his communicator and I looked out the window as night started to fall over the city. He tucked the pen away and slapped his hands together. "Delmonico's?"

"Just as long as you don't stick me with the bill or try to put it on your expense account," Illya said, leaning back and putting his arms behind his head. He looked like a very contented cat and I smiled.

"What? It's business-related. Since when haven't we been able to pay our informants justly? And where better to be seen than at Delmonico's with a beautiful woman on our arms? We will be the envy of the place."

"I'm not really dressed."

Napoleon laughed. "You are fine. Do you like to dance?"

"I do," I murmured. Two handsome men, dinner and dancing, plus I got to take down a major THRUSH communication scheme, it was going to be a lovely night. And best of all, not a word of it would ever leave my lips because I'm a girl who knows how to keep secrets.


End file.
